Nine years ago, Celine Hernandez broke my heart. Eight years ago, she stomped on it for good measure. When Celine moved to LA after high school, I enlisted in the Marines.
After an honorable discharge, I’m home, in Tennessee, living out my dream as a professional hockey player. Now, she’s back in our hometown, filming a movie, and reminding me of a past I’ve tried to forget.
She’s got her name up in lights. She’s shining so bright; she’s acting like she never left. Celine’s everywhere I go — visiting my Gran, having coffee dates with my sister — and forcing me to remember a time when life wasn’t so harsh. When I was whole and thriving. Happy.
But I can’t trust those feelings anymore. I’m not the same man Celine remembers. I’ve lost too much, grieved too hard, and am too broken down for do-overs.
Is my ex-everything a risk my heart can handle? Or is our second chance more sacrifice than salvation?
